


Loving Hearts Enthroned

by Bellatrix_Wannabe_89



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: BAMF Brienne of Tarth, Brienne and Podrick do NOT just stare at candles, F/M, Jaime is sane and leaves Cersei after she blows up the sept, Mother-Son Relationship, Sansa is saved before Ramsey hurts her, Yes I know these things happen a season apart but ignore the timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27001912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellatrix_Wannabe_89/pseuds/Bellatrix_Wannabe_89
Summary: Brienne’s lips were turned down into a frown, her eyes weary, and when she shook the older woman’s hand her grip was tight and unfriendly. She was being rude. She knew it, and more importantly so did Podrick, but she couldn’t help herself. All the blonde could think as she stood there, staring into the brown eyes so like her squires was this woman may have given birth to Pod but he was not hers, he was Brienne’s. And she swore by all Seven Gods she would fight her for him.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Podrick Payne & Brienne of Tarth, Podrick Payne/Sansa Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Loving Hearts Enthroned

**Author's Note:**

> We’re aging down Podrick a little bit so he’s about 17 here

[ ](https://ibb.co/f4Kf8Ly)

_ Shit! Shit shit shit shit! _

Podrick could have  **_sworn_ ** Brienne yelled at him to go left. She shouted the command as she wheeled her horse around to take on four of Littlefinger’s guards hot on their heels, her valyrian sword drawn. 

They had been trailing Sansa and Littlefinger when they were spotted after Podrick made a racket when he fell off his horse. The guards came for them and they outrode the men for a while but then they got close and Brienne ordered him to ride on so that they didn’t lose sight of Sansa and Littlefinger. She would meet up with him after he dealt with the guards and with a sharp kick to his horses hindquarters he was off like a shot, heading off into the woods.

But, he realized after a while as he traveled further and further into the forest and not seeing any trails, much less a pack of horses off in the distance, she might have said to go right.

After a few hours and no sight of Sansa nor the sound of Brienne coming up behind him he was  _ positive _ she shouted at him to go right. He wheeled back around after he came to a large fallen tree that no man or horse could get by, trying to remember where he came from. The light was fading fast and he swallowed hard as he spurred his horse on, trying to get out of the woods before he was truly lost, but the dark grey mount wouldn’t budge and kept whinnying and snorting and trying to ignore his control of the reins.

Finally, just as the stars started to dot the skies, he came out where his Lady had fought . Already the flies and crows were having a feast as all four of the stinking bloated corpses laid there, eyes without light and lungs without breath, their blood long since thickened and congealed. The corpses were there, but where was Brienne? Now his heart began to race even further. What if she was hurt? What if more guards had come and she had been outnumbered and they took her as a prisoner? Or worse, what if they hadn’t?

A twig snapped and Podrick whirled around, swallowing hard. “I’m armed!” he cried out, his voice trembling with fear, hoping they wouldn’t call him on his bluff. But he needn’t worry about that, because the mounted figure that burst through the woods wasn’t an enemy soldier or some braggarts, but Brienne.

Although when he saw the fury in her expression and the fire in her eyes, he wished it had been an enemy instead.

“I told you to go right,” she said, sharp highborn voice trembling in rage.

Brienne was angry. Angrier than he had ever seen her, and he had seen her plenty mad before. Like when he lost the horses, or when he didn’t keep track of Arya while she was fighting the Hound. But that was nothing compared to this.

“I- I thought you said left,” he admitted, swallowing hard.

“I said RIGHT!” He hated how her shouting caused his horse to whinny and paw at the ground while hers stood perfectly still, perfectly trained. “Are you so incompetent you don’t know your left from your right?! Podrick, I trusted you to follow Sansa and instead you went off and got lost, and I had to abandon her to come back and look for you! I didn’t know if you were hurt, I didn’t know if you had been taken, I didn’t know to look for your horse or a corpse! Now we lost a whole day, and who knows what road they’re on or where they’re headed!”

She ran a hand through her disheveled hair, shaking her head. “I should have told Jaime I couldn’t bring you,” Brienne said, more to herself than to him. “I should have told him I wasn’t a nursemaid, I should have headed out on my own the moment I had the chance.”

Brienne whirled her mare back around and he nudged his horse after her, silently begging it to go so that he wouldn’t have to yell at it and she wouldn’t hear the tears he was fighting so hard against falling. 

Neither one said anything as they rode out of the woods and back down the road where they had seen an inn a mile or so back, for which Pod was eternally grateful for. It had been a long day, it was dark, and he was far too tired to help set up camp. After they handed off their horses to the stable boy they made their way inside, with Brienne asking for two rooms and if that wasn’t available then one room with two beds.

“We got jus’ the one,” the innkeeper answered, an old wrinkled man with thin stringy hair. He spit out a glob of sourleaf into a spit cup. “One bed I’m afraid.”

If Podrick could have felt any worse then he did before that did it. They stayed in a few inns so far, and whenever there was only one bed available Brienne took the floor while Pod was given the bed. He would try to argue and insist that she take the bed and she would just wave him off and lie, saying that the beds were always too small for her and the floor was more comfortable anyway.

“That’s fine,” she said quickly before Podrick could argue, getting out her purse and slapping the coins down, being careful not to show just how much money Ser Jaime sent her off with. “Do you have a bath?”

“Third floor, all the way down on the left.” Another hunk of spit and he grinned at the blonde, showing them a mouthful of red and brown teeth as he slapped down a key. “Water’s nice and warm, M’lady.”

“I bet,” she said dryly, before they headed off up the stairs to their room. A dirty fireplace heavy with soot and ash was on one wall, and the mattress had bits of straw poking out while flies buzzed around a chamber pot, and the stench of something old and musty hung in the air.

The rare times they did stay in an inn they had been quite nice. If they were going to give themselves a break, Brienne wanted to make sure they actually had a  **_break_ ** , but tonight neither of them had been in the mood to go and look for something better than this dirty hole in the wall.

Brienne quickly rid herself of her armor and mail as Pod sat on the bed and watched as she hung it up as neatly and carefully as she could along with her sword and scabbard, treating it more like a precious flower a lover might have given her rather than the metal armor and valyrian steel it was in reality. Of course Podrick had also been by Brienne's side long enough to hear her moan and whisper Jaime Lannister’s name as she lay sleeping. Her fingers would clench into a fist, her hips would roll, and Podrick would quickly turn away and cover his ears until she stilled again.

Brienne had lots of dreams. Not just the ones where she and Ser Jaime would be in…. intimate situations, but she would cry out for Renly Baratheon, for Lady Catelyn, and more and more often she would call out for Jaime either so she could protect them or so they could save her from a man named Locke who she begged not to touch her. 

Those were the worst ones. Not the ones where she couldn’t protect the people she swore to serve, but when Podrick had to listen to her weep and beg and grovel, when she cried out for Jaime to come back for her… It tore at his heart, especially the morning after when she would be skittish around her squire and refused his help regarding her armor. 

“I’m going to take a bath,” she announced, grabbing a fresh tunic and a pair of clean breeches from her saddlebags. “Hopefully the water is warm if not clean.”

“Yes My Lady.” He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “And… and I’m sorry. About today.”

“You’re always sorry.” Anger was creeping back into her voice again, letting him know it never really went away but she had merely contained it for the time being. “You were sorry about the horses, you were sorry about Arya and now you’re sorry about Sansa… I’m tired of you being sorry all the time, Podrick, and truthfully right now I’m struggling to think of a reason for you to stay.”

Brienne got out her purse and laid a few coppers down on the bed, ignoring her crestfallen squire. “Get yourself some food. I’ll be down after I’m done.”

“Yes My Lady.”

Without so much as a glance towards him Brienne left the room, leaving him to wallow in his shame. He was not meant to be a squire. All he was doing was messing things up for Brienne, all he was doing was making it harder for her to keep the vow she made to Lady Catelyn and the promise she made to Jaime Lannister. 

Podrick swiped at the tears in his eyes before he grabbed the coins she left and headed down to the main hall, choosing a table tucked away in the corner that looked the least dirty, focusing on a deep gouge in the dark wood.

“You look like you could use a drink,” a serving girl said as she slid a mug of ale to him. 

“No thanks,” he muttered, his gaze still downcast. As much as a drink sounded good Brienne wouldn’t allow him ale. The blonde barely allowed him wine.

“Oh come on, Love.” She nudged the frothy drink closer to him. “Nothing’s so bad that a mug of ale and a bit of stew can’t fix it.”

Podrick blinked, and furrowed his brow. That phrase. It was like a dream from long ago being pulled to the front of his mind from the shadows. The young squire finally looked up at the woman. She was older, around thirty and five he wagered, with a plump, pretty face, long dark brown hair and warm brown eyes. She was short, reaching maybe five and a half feet on a good day, and her body was full with thick hips hidden beneath her skirt and heavy breasts that spilled out of her corset. A small faded scar he had seen a thousand times when he was younger rested on the corner of her jaw. 

No… No it couldn’t be. He was dreaming, or he was mistaken, but this couldn't be…

“Everything alright, Love?” the server asked again, quirking her head to the side. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Podrick stood, his whole body trembling. He searched over her face, a face he once knew better then anyone else’s, one he used to dream about and cry out for when he was a babe and even beyond that. Tears welled in his eyes, eyes that mirrored hers and he had to grab onto the table to keep from falling.

“Mum?” he asked in a small, trembling voice.

The woman laughed, a rich hearty sound and he whimpered as sounds from a long forgotten childhood made their way back to him. “Perhaps you already had one ale too many, Love.” She grinned at him. “Lemme bring you a bowl of stew and some bread alright?”

She started to walk away and he took a shuddering breath and said loudly, “my name is Podrick Payne.” The woman froze midstep, letting the tray she was carrying crash to the floor. “My father was Damon Payne,” he continued. “He was the second son of a second son, and… and my mother was Leila.”

She whipped back around, big brown eyes wide with shock. “Pod,” Leila whispered. He came out from behind the table and walked over to her, cautiously as if she might flee from him. “Podrick… is it-... is it really you?”

He nodded, his eyes brimming with tears. She slowly walked over to him, lifting her hands and running them through his hair, the way she used to do when he was a boy and he needed comfort. He could no longer hold back his tears and with a broken son he threw his arms around his mother, weeping into her shoulder as she embraced him, tears falling down her cheeks as she stroked his hair. “My boy,” Leila whispered, kissing the top of his head. “My sweet boy, my beautiful sweet boy, you’re home now. You’re home…”

**Slow start I know but it’ll pick up I promise!**


End file.
